


Loki's Mortal Pet

by Darling_Loki



Category: Avengers, Loki - Fandom, Thor - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Jotun Loki, Reader-involved, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darling_Loki/pseuds/Darling_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You awake from a nightmare, and your god is there to comfort you, as he always is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loki's Mortal Pet

You pant for breath as you run, air whipping at you, irrational fear slamming into you. You feel ice closing around you as your hunter gains ...

-

You jerked awake, panting, eyes wild for a moment before settling on a familiar figure, smirking down at you. 

“Dreaming again, pet?” Loki’s voice was silky, seductively dark, and you smiled at the familiarity. 

“Just the dreams that I used to have before you revealed yourself and claimed me,” you stretched, enjoying the way his dark-green eyes burned with hunger. 

“Ah, yes. Pity that it was a futile effort to keep you from me,” he lifted a pale hand, trailing it down your side and, despite the chill, it left a trail of fire in its wake. But then, he’d always had that effect on you. “My little human girl, desperate for something more than the mundane life she had. Did I grant your wish?”

“I’ll say,” you breathed, leaning into his touch. His laughter was rich, husky, even if he didn’t stop trailing his fingers over your bared skin. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to play again, pet,” his voice was still amused, but there was something darker underneath, something primal and barely tamed. 

“Luckily, you do know better, and you know I don’t like to play with my god,” you purred, stretching again so the silken blankets fell away from your skin. You felt his smouldering eyes blazing into you, and you hid your triumphant smile.

“I know that. Such a good little mortal girl for me,” he brushed his fingers over your lips, feather-light, and you caught one between your teeth, eyes sparkling.

“You never get tired of trying to break me, do you?” you grinned up at him. 

“Of course not. You’re so strong compared to those other mortals, but you always surrender to me, don’t you, pet?” he tugged on your hair slightly, making you gasp softly. “Because you know that no Midgardian, no matter how strong-willed, will ever be able to withstand the might of a god, will they?”

“Especially not my trickster god,” you managed as his hands trail over your skin, so cold but burning you up from the inside out. You loved the icy reminder that he’s not like the rest of them, not Asgardian, but Frost Giant. You never told him so, but you loved when his eyes burn red and his skin ices over with that dark-blue. He’d expected you to run then, but in truth, it had made you crave him more. And that was the moment he had promised to take you with him, bring you back to Asgard, because you were special. And he hadn’t tired of you since.

“YOUR trickster god? Bit presumptuous,” he stated, his body resting in the cradle of your legs as he looked up at you, leaning forward slightly as though he wanted to catch every subtle response and expression you made. 

“I think I’ve earned that right,” you answered, trying to keep control, but you saw the victorious light in his eyes, that triumphant glint that meant he knew you were losing this battle. 

“You think you have? Pet, you always believe you’ve tamed the god of chaos. What makes you believe I have been tamed?” he bit down on the smooth slope between neck and shoulder, making you whimper and buck up into the hard, cold lines of his naked body. 

“You haven’t hurt me,” you said simply, arching up to feel his hardness against you. 

“Oh, you’re wrong about that, pet. I intend on hurting you, again, and again, and again,” he bit down again, hard, and you groaned, your head falling to the side, leaving it bared. His laughter was dark against your skin.

“Hurt me, mark me,” you whimpered, craving the fulfilment only this god seemed to be able to grant you. “Claim me.” 

“Claim you? Oh sweet Midgardian, you’re already mine,” he pinched your nipples between his fingers, verging on painful, and your head fell back in ecstasy. “You see? You don’t even need to speak. Your body begs for me, all by itself.” 

“Yours,” you gasped, needing his icy touch. In the short time you’d been able to touch him, he had become a dangerously-addictive drug, and you were hooked. You wrapped your legs around his waist, fitting him against you, and his fingers knead your sensitive flesh, bruising but so fucking good. 

“Little whore,” he hummed in satisfaction against your skin, and you moaned at the delicious chill. “Do you want me to transform for you tonight?” 

“Oh, gods, yes,” you panted, nails raking at his pale back. He chuckled, dark and predatory, but you feel that delicious chill that always got so much more intense when he transforms for you. You’ve only ever seen him do it in the privacy of these chambers, away from prying eyes, and only for you. It makes you feel ... special, to have seen him this way. Scarlet overtakes green in his eyes, as the change ripples over his skin. 

His nails dug into your skin as you surged up to kiss him, needing to taste that frigid darkness that was pure Loki. He growled into your mouth, tongue licking its way inside. He filled your senses, absolutely intoxicating, as one hand glided over your slick entrance.

“So wet for me,” his voice was a lower than normal, but still dark and smooth. It was the sound of seductive promises and sensual whispers that sent shivers down her spine. Paired with the amazing chill that he burned into her skin like a brand, how could she be anything but desperate for him? She was his. “You really do love my Jotun form, don’t you?” 

“How couldn’t I? It’s part of you,” you found it hard to believe you’re still capable of answering him, but you knew he wouldn’t be satisfied if you didn't. 

“My little flame,” he murmured. “Such a sweet blush in your cheeks, pet.” 

“Please, please, please,” you gasp when he teases your entrance, a finger barely sliding in. He chuckled again, tongue laving at the bruising mark on your neck. You knew you’d have many more before this night was over, and he’d smirk arrogantly when you wore the dresses that showed them off. You knew it earned you sneers from the other women, the nobles and goddesses, thinking you were just his little plaything, but you liked knowing that he cared enough to mark you, letting everyone know that you were his. And oh gods, he knew you were his, from that very first night. 

“Mmm. You seem much more wanton than when you used that muzzle on me,” he murmured, pulling back to admire the delicious picture you must make, judging by the satisfied look on his face. “And the chains. Oh, the chains. You enjoyed dallying as the dominatrix, didn’t you, darling?” 

“Never could compare to this,” you moaned, desperate, hungry. His finger slid slightly deeper, still teasing though, and you let out a low growl of frustration. It was one of those animalistic sounds only he can draw out of you, the ones that had terrified you at first, but he had revelled in. You came to love the reactions you could pull from him, the subtle reactions that meant you were slowly beginning to destroy his self-control. And that is what you always craved – to reduce him to the wild, desperate god that claimed you with a passionate edge of ferocity, fingers bruising, teeth marking skin. Gods, did you crave it.

“I know, darling. It’s because you’re a natural submissive, aren’t you? A pushy, strong submissive, but a submissive nonetheless,” he sucked another bruise, teeth grazing, and you groaned, head falling back in an open invitation. You could feel his cocky grin against your skin, so you dig your nails into his back, raking them down again and feeling his delicious chill against your palms. If anything, it makes him smirk even more.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted, sheen of sweat already decorating your skin. His tongue swiped over your collarbone, sliding into the dip there, and making you shiver. 

“Oh, sweetheart. You think you’re desperate now?” his red eyes were hooded as he looked at you. “By the time I enter you, you’re gonna be screaming. So the whole of Asgard can hear who is fucking the beautiful whore of a Midgardian. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you whined, meeting his intense gaze. His smile was almost blinding as he possesses your mouth, body pressing against you and flattening you against the silken sheets. Your hands tightened in his thick, dark hair. You felt his growl against your lips, and you realised just how close he was to losing it and driving into you with everything that he was. The thought of that icy chill, coupled with the wild immortal being that was your lover made you bite down on his lips, legs wrapping around his waist. His fingers slid into you, two rather than the one you’d originally thought, and you cried out, head falling back and breaking the bruising kiss. He wasn’t deterred, and lowered his head, sucking bruises down your neck and chest until he took one nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing.

“Loki!” you gasped, fire and ice blazing through your body. 

“That’s better,” he murmured, moving his attentions to the other. His fingers were still moving within you, his frigid skin even more prominent against your slick heat. Your hips bucked against his hand, and the other one steadied your hips, splayed across your stomach and holding you still. 

“Please,” you moaned, not even knowing what you were begging for any more. He moved lower, tongue dipping into your navel and making you squirm. Your fingernails dug into his scalp, probably enough to hurt, not that either of you particularly cared.

His tongue flicked against you, following the same rhythm as his fingers, and you let out an embarrassing whine. His chuckle made you writhe against the sheets, trapped between the smooth glide of the sheets and the chilling bite of his skin.

“Please, more,” you panted. “Need to feel you, Loki, please.” 

“You will, darling, you will,” he promised, his tongue still thrusting into you, his fingers pushing against your clit and making you burn. “But not until I’ve tasted you properly.”

Even more pleasure twisted through you, and the thought crossed your mind that 'holy shit he’s gonna fucking kill you like this'. Well, there are worse ways to die, after all. You gasped as his fingers crooked, making you see stars as his tongue is coated with the taste of you. He groaned, deep in his throat. 

“So sweet for me,” the vibrations of the words were almost too much, and you writhed beneath him, still desperate, even as your body trembled with the aftershocks.

“Only you,” you moaned, not wanting to let your head fall back, wanting to see the beauty of his Jotun form that he seems to dislike, more than he cares to admit, but you can’t help the way your body relaxed, even as it craved him. 

“No Midgardian or god could please you the way I could,” he gave a light tug on your hair, and you gasped.

“No, never,” you panted, and he smirked, moving over you so his fingers still teased your clit but his cool breath chilled your neck and the cold length of his body pressed deliciously against yours.

“You wanted me, you’re going to get me,” he growled the promise into your skin, biting and sucking as many bruises as he wants there as his fingers stop teasing and he presses into you, filling you just the way you like, burning and chilling you from the inside out. So fucking good!

“Please, more, please, please,” you were incoherent with the pleasure of finally having him where you want him. 

“My desperate little pet, you’ll get what you want,” he breathed, and he pulled back, slamming into you with power that bordered on violence. But you’re not a fragile girl who needs soft and loving to bring you to orgasm. You crave everything he gives, every rough thrust, every bite of his teeth, every tug of your sweat-dampened hair. 

And he never treated you like you wanted soft and gentle, which is one of the things you love about him. He knew from day one, not even asking, seeing that you needed that dangerous edge that you always craved, that most men weren’t equipped to give you. Then he’d claimed you, and your whole body had ignited with the need that only he had been able to bring out in you. You were his, and you wore every single mark he gave you with pride, ignoring the looks it earned you from the other women, and the soft, derisive laughs of ‘look at Loki’s whore’. 

His hips snapped forwards, driving him even deeper, and you shouted out his name. His hands wound into your hair. 

“Louder. Everyone’s going to hear you scream for me tonight,” he growled, pulling out and slamming back into you. 

“Loki!” your back arched off the bed as you screamed; his finger is pushing against your clit as he thrusts into you, his glowing-red eyes fixed on your face. You could feel your second orgasm of the night nearing, and you clenched around him as his finger pushed particularly hard. A wordless shriek was ripped from you as he mercilessly pounded into you, making you scream through your orgasm, pleasure wracking your body, too much, too much. Gods, he was going to kill you.

“That’s my pretty little pet,” he groaned against your neck. “Oh, fuck!” 

He shouted out as his own orgasm hits, his Jotun form fading into his familiar form. 

“No one can make you scream like I can,” even tired after such an intense orgasm, he sounded proud as he sprawled out beside you.

“Nope,” you chuckled weakly. “No one can make me believe I’m going to die of pleasure either.”

“I’d never let it go quite that far,” he flashed his signature grin, that trickster smirk that promises mischief. It made others shift uneasily, but you just smiled back, knowing his antics tend to work in your favour.

“I know. And that’s why I love my trickster god,” you pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, not expecting him to say anything back.

“And I love my mortal girl,” his voice was soft, almost inaudible, as his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. “A Midgardian made the God of Mischief fall in love. To think, I ridiculed my brother of such a thing.”

“You would,” you snorted with laughter. 

“Sleep, pet,” his hand soothed over your hair, pushing it back from your face, and you sighed in pleasure, losing yourself to sleep, a blissful smile on your face. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, curling around you protectively, before he fell asleep, too. A Midgardian sleeping soundly in the arms of the God of Mischief – some might have laughed scornfully at such an idea. But the truth was, the two of you made a gorgeous picture as the sun rose, casting golden light over the two of you and lighting you both up with ethereal magic, making human look like a goddess and god look like a king.

And you were happy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on this site, so I hope it's okay :) x


End file.
